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Mighty Jacksparrow is an Earth-based sub-intergalactic blogger who enjoys writing and in the same time entertaining his ever-amusing will-kill-to-read fans with sensationally hilarious and at times dramatic musings. This blog offers endless ideas and results; they might be charming most of the times but could be offending in some others. Therefore, it is always noble to remind that if you enjoy the pieces, carry on reading, but if they upset you, do quietly leave like the evening breeze and not like exploding diarrhea, which exactly what you will look like if you ever lose it on me. Enjoy! :D

Monday, October 26, 2009

The Perfect Kiss

Quite a lot of things happened today.

In the morning, I woke up to wait for the call for prayer. Firmly sitting on my rather old and weatherbeaten chair I thought for a while about the dream I have just had right a little more than a handful fifteen minutes from then.

Weird dream, I must say.

Weirder, it is still fresh till now that I see myself to have no problem at all describing it to you right now itself.

* * *

My coffee arrived at the table I was sitting.

Alone I was at that time, fashionably dressed in my favorite sweater and my old but comfortable jeans, feet covered with my white Paul Smith. It was rather quite at the premise, from which I discovered to be the place I occasionally come at times to spend my time with companies or with the exception of any.

There was a plate of fresh, full-ripe strawberries on the table, too, along with the cup of hot coffee.

There was nobody around in the shop and the breeze was quite cold, so I kept myself warm by hugging myself up in my own folding arms. The coffee was too hot to be had, so I decided not to touch it at all circumstances, though my throat was already at its driest.

Slow music played along in the background, of jazz. The sort of songs like Buble's 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder' and the like. The seat I was having placed me at a position facing the open concourse in front of the shop, putting me at ease to browse through any face that was to enter the shop or maybe just to cross pass it. But there was none, none to be observed. The place was empty, entirely.

Outside there, it rained lightly. The atmosphere was at its grayest, with a hint of blue and violet gleaming faintly at the sides of moving clouds. Early morning rain I was getting, along with a plate of fresh, full-ripe strawberries and a cup of decent, hot black coffee. The sort of situation I would have to describe as completely and staggeringly beyond anything perfect. The sort of situations that I would not mind to be having, spending my every precious seconds just sitting there alone, enjoying the rain and the cold breeze while pampering myself with a plate of strawberries and a cup of hot coffee.

And out of a sudden came into the shop a number of females, dressed in their most stylish, most posh and most vogue apparels. One was wearing the most extensively designed Kebaya Nyonya, complete with the scarf crossing her shoulder. Another with a combination of starch-ironed white working blouse and a long black slack, two large earrings hung by her ears and such stylish stilettos. Another in the most striking Kurong made from such fabric that only silk could match to, her hair was rolled into a bun, locked with a strike of traditional hair stick. And so on.

This had not only bring the atmosphere up, but to a whole new dimension. Out of a sudden, I was instantly surrounded with these female companies. They all sat down at the tables around me but mine. Which was a good thing, really, not because I was not expecting anyone nor I might be distorted from the fact that my lonely morning would be disturbed, but because of the fact that all of these women, these gorgeous women, were my ex.

They were the women who once sang to me vast amount of love songs, who carved oaths in stones for me and who once were the princesses of my life. Strange to have them, all of them, here together with me, sitting in their own chairs while their eyes fully locked on me, smiles carved in the brightest of all stars. And I stared at them all, one by one, from one end to another, repeatedly.

Nothing happened so far.

For a full two minutes, nothing continued to happen.

And then after two minutes, it happened.

Gently two arms made their way around my neck from behind. I could see them, covered in knitted pink cotton cardigan. They possessed this scent, a long forgotten scent that slowly put my in complete enchantment; such euphoria, such beatitude, such serenity that by milliseconds calmed me down into my own state of trance. Such scent that I missed for a very long time, and from this scent itself, I straightly recognized the identity of the person behind me. But I was too busy with the scent, so I didn't mind to turn around.

I felt the warmth of her skin beneath the cotton cardigan on my neck, of such enthusiastic ardor that blanketed me from the coldness around. The scent got stronger now that the arms were locked right beneath my chin. I closed my eyes and I rested my head on one of her arm, and instantly I felt such primrose path, the sort of things one could only describe as a total, perfect solace. The type of feelings that a baby would feel while sleeping in the mother's arms. Of comfort, of contentment, of peacefulness, beds and beds of roses.

With my eyes still closed, I could feel warmth hitting my right cheek and ears, the usual sensation one feels when somebody gets really close, right a few inches above the surface of naked skin.

Her right hand lifted and supported my head slightly tilted to the left. Then it brushed gently on my hair and the back of my neck, caressing them with care, so softly it brought me a whole new definition to my relative understanding to affectionate ecstasy. A set of moist lips pecked softly once on my cheek, followed by another one that lasted for a few seconds.

And then the arms lifted away, and so did the lips. Gone were then the hugs and kisses and warmth so pleasant, leaving me in complete coldness again, eyes still closed. But almost at an instant, I felt someone slowly sitting on my hips. A hand held to my neck, and almost as instantly too, I caught her back using my left arm when my other hand held to her waist.

I felt a hand caressing the skin on my cheek.

And this hand, this particular hand, pulled my head forward, for reasons I was not really clear about until something touched my lips, leading to what I believed to be a beautifully played, utmost sensational, perfect kiss. The moment of silence occurred, I could only hear constant ringing in my ears. And it lasted for merely a few seconds before the stir in my emotions settled.

When that was done, I opened my eyes, only to see that she was right like I expected her to be.

"It is you," I whispered in total awe.

"Of course it is me," she replied. "Surprised?"

I cleared my throat and wet my lips.

"Sort of, actually," I said, "but it doesn't matter already."

"Of course it doesn't," she then replied with smiles. "Nothing ever does."

I thought for a while about this.

"Whatever," I pulled her closer to me. "It is good to have you back."

We looked into the eyes of each other, staring deep into them, wandering deep inside each other's mind. As if I was looking for some sort of understanding in her, the same thing she was looking in me.

"Welcome back," I said, "I am glad it happens to be you."

"Thank you."

At this point I realized that all of my exes were staring at us two. Just for the effect, I pulled her closer and as if we were in such perfectly crafted mutual understanding, we closed our eyes and we kissed for another one time. And this had caused the crowd (the exes, of course) to give out such appreciative and loud applause round and round, with those cries of cheers of 'aww' and 'ahh' and 'oh my God that's so sweet!' sort of things. Every and each of them. They cheered so loud that for a while I thought that I have just won the US Open, me kissing the trophy. I felt a drop of tear, not mine but hers, dropped onto my cheek; one warm drop of tears slowly flowing down from her eyes down to my cheek and down, down down down....

I woke up.

* * *

Now this dream, it has not only caused me to sit down and think about it over and over, one part because it was strictly and beautifully sensational, one part because it was of whom I kissed, twice, and one part because I was still in complete shock and awe from it.

I looked into the mirror and there was a fresh stain of some sort of clear liquid rolling down my cheek. It started a few centimeter next to my nose, right at the point where her tear fell onto in my dream. Supernaturally confusing, really. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the person I kissed.